


Risks

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy Racism (mentioned), Guilt, Orc Stronghold, Orsimer - Freeform, Self-Esteem, Tashok almost dies in a fight and is not ok with that, she gets a boost to her self-esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: A view into Tashok's third week in Skyrim, in which her ambition and eagerness to throw herself into the unknown leads her and her companion into a dangerous situation. She must learn from her mistakes and realize that both she and Lucien have strengths waiting to be unlocked.





	Risks

Lucien disappears from view as he drinks the potion frantically, and it’s at that point that the frighteningly strong Draugr turns its attention to her and lunges — its eyes glowing unnaturally as it brings down its axe down on her.

Tashok wakes up with a sharp pain coming from her shoulder and collarbone, yelping in pain as she brings her hand to her wound.

“Tashok!” Lucien runs to her and kneels down. “Are you feeling better?”

It takes her a moment to remember where she is and what happened. Her eyes dart about as she takes in the small, quick makeshift camp they set up in the now vacant building that is Traitor’s Post. It was the farthest they could get after barely making it out alive, her health, magicka and strength much too low to do anything else but rest. She hadn’t even had enough magicka to heal her worst wound completely.

Going into Yngol Barrow was a mistake… It seemed like a typical ruin at first, like the other three she and Lucien had explored, even with the small lights dancing by them as they progressed, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.

Until they came upon the main chamber.

The shade that was there nearly killed Lucien, and at that moment Tashok was glad she’d given him her Invisibility potion, even if its attention was now turned to her.

The blow to her collarbone had her reeling in pain and seeing stars, and she wouldn’t have been able to dodge the blow that was coming. Thankfully Lucien leaped towards Yngol’s Shade and finished it off before it could do the same to her.

She’d tried to heal herself, her wound bleeding abundantly down her armour, but her magicka was low due to having healed Lucien earlier in the fight.

In the present, Tashok runs her fingers gingerly over the wound and feels the rough and bumpy texture of the clotted blood from under the bandages. When did she even put those there?

“Ugh… At least it stopped bleeding.” she scowls at her wound.

“Yes, well… You took care of that earlier.” Lucien tells her. “But you looked so pale, I was worried you wouldn’t make it. I certainly wouldn’t have survived a blow like that.”

“Oh, well… I’ve always been pretty tough. I can take a punch… An axe, not so much.”

Lucien manages a small laugh, despite the worry on his face.

“Do you feel well enough to travel?” Lucien asks.

“I think so…” she answers as she pushes herself up, stumbling a bit. “A proper bed won’t hurt, that’s for certain.”

“Right, off to Windhelm then…”

He takes her by the arm and throws it over his shoulders, allowing her to put some of her weight on him. Throughout their walk she stews silently.

"Are you... are you alright?" she can't find the strength to look as him when she asks.

"I am." comes the simple answer.

Her past few successes had been enough for her to believe herself invincible, if not at the very least capable of handling anything thrown her way. Yet reality came crashing down yesterday as she practically dropped her Bound Bow in order to send a stream of healing magic towards Lucien, and then being too tapped to summon it again. Luckily she always kept a real bow for emergencies like this and promptly continued to shoot at the undead creature. Her nerves got the better of her and soon she realized she wasn't drawing her bow enough and releasing her arrows too quickly.

Perhaps she's not made for adventuring after all.

They manage a decent pace considering her injuries, and they arrive to Candlehearth Hall, where the usual patrons are busy eating, drinking and talking.

Elda turns to them when she hears the door swing open, ready to give her usual spiel until she sees the state of the Orc who had become a regular.

“Tashok, what happened to you?!” she nearly drops the cup she was wiping. “Sit down, sit down.”

This gets the attention of the other patrons, one of which stands up and pulls a chair for her to fall on.

“I, uh…” Tashok breathes heavily. “Got hurt frighting a Draugr… In the crypt nearby…”

“Why would you go there?!” the man named Stenvar asks in shock.

“This woman from Winterhold, she… she sold me this.” she holds up the dragon claw. “Told me to go check it out. It didn’t think it’d be that dangerous.”

“It’s an ancient ruin, of course it’s dangerous.” Luaffyn scolds her. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“I know…”

Tashok looks down, disappointed in herself for walking into danger, and for dragging Lucien along. She looks up to him with mournful eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien.” she doesn’t bother to try and stop her ears from lowering. “I could’ve gotten you killed.”

“It’s…” Lucien thinks carefully. “It’s alright. Exploring like we do has some risks, we just... need to better gage the situations we go in and be more careful. We’ll do better next time.”

He smiles at her reassuringly, and Tashok can’t help but to try and mimic the expression, albeit less strongly. She still has no interest in continuing taking such dangerous jobs.

“Miss Tashok!” Sofie’s gasp draws Tashok’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, little one…” Tashok lifts her good arm and pats Sofie on the head. “Don’t you fret.”

“But, you look really hurt… Worse than with the bandits…” Sofie pouts.

“I’ll get better with time.” Tashok reassures her. “That’s why I’m staying her for a few days, until I recuperate.”

“Until you what?” Sofie’s head tilts to the side in confusion.

“Until I get better.”

“Oh… I’ll make sure you get enough soup! Mommy used to say soup helps you get better quickly!”

Tashok blinks in surprise before laughing.

“Is that so?” she chuckles. “Well, I’ll be sure to let Elda know about my new diet.”

—

The break in Windhelm was much more needed than Tashok had thought. She was now exploring the area of Eastmarch with Lucien by her side filled with a new spirit to her. It must be from spending more time around both Sofie and Lucien, watching them bond as Pearl cozied up between them, and relaxing with them without having to worry too much about anything. The few items they had looted from not only Yngol’s Barrow, but the other ruins they’d explored on their way back from Falkreath had been enough to fill their pockets with a decent amount of coin. 

Tashok jumps over a large root as she explores around the landscape, sticking close to the foot of the mountain while she gathers ingredients. The book she had bought from Arcadia called **_Herbalist’s Guide to Skyrim_** had proved immensely useful, and Tashok is eager to collect the specimens mentioned in it. No more walking into random ruins or caves - she doesn't need to run into danger to make money, not really. Sure it isn't as quick and the rewards are smaller, but her alchemy will allow her to sell her potions. Maybe she can even figure out how to set up her own stall in the market, or come to an arrangement with one of the vendors.

Tashok’s focus was almost exclusively on picking off the many plants she sees, letting fate dictate her path to the point that she doesn’t realize she’s reached a wall of some kind until she hears a woman’s voice call out to her.

“"Welcome, child of Malacath.” Tashok looks up and realizes another Orc is speaking to her. “Your kin bid you welcome to our stronghold.”

“I don’t understand…” Tashok blushes at the greeting, feeling a warm lightness spread through her chest. “Where… What is this place?”

Tashok has obviously heard of strongholds before, usually said by a Breton with a sneer or a note of distaste. A place where barbarians squat at and live separate from society because they can't be civil, a place of chaos. Tashok had often wondered if she would be better off living in a stronghold herself considering the subtle, messages the people of High Rock sent her. They made it clear her kind didn't belong amongst them, but it would be far too disreputable to say it explicitly and out loud.

"This is our stronghold. Here, we are free to live as Malacath intended, away from the prying eyes of the Nords. You must have been away from your kind for a long time to forget.” the woman explains without a hint of judgement or scorn. "Come, speak to the chief and the wise woman, and remember.”

“I… I will.” Tashok blinks and walks through the now-opened doors. “Thank you.”

“It is your right to have this knowledge. Your companion may also enter, but he must abide by our code.”

“Which is?” Lucien sounds nervous.

“Don’t attack or kill members of the stronghold, and don’t steal from us, lest you pay a gold or blood price.”

“Right, no violence from me, I assure you!”

Lucien trails behind Tashok as she listens intently to the Chief’s aunt, the wise-woman named Bolar. The woman even allows her to craft a potion of her choice, and seems mildly impressed by her ability to extract the chemicals from her ingredients. Tashok finally ends up in a conversation with Dushnamub, the Chief’s son and the stronghold's blacksmith.

“I’ve never really had the chance to learn much about smithing…” Tashok sighs wistfully as she watches him work. “The blacksmith back in Wayrest didn’t seem to like me… Or Ghara, or Yamac… I think she just didn’t like Orcs.”

“What a fool.” Dushnamub scoffs. “Smithing is in our blood. She was most certainly threatened by your potential. Here, let’s see what you can do.”

He places his current project on the crafting table and hands her some leather strips, an iron ingot and orichalcum ingot, which she takes silently, if not awkwardly and inspects as he gets himself a second set of materials identical to hers.

“I’ll show you how to craft a dagger - it's basic enough.” he starts. “Look at what I’m doing and then give it a try.”

One tempered dagger later, the blacksmith is grinning with satisfaction.

“See?” he motions to Tashok’s work. “A strong start. Keep working your craft and you’ll become a competent smith one day.”

“Thank you.” Tashok’s grateful smile reaches her eyes, making them squint. “I’ll… Keep that in mind.”

“If you can become as good with a forge as you were with that alchemy table, you’ll be a respectable crafter.”

“Thank you.”

Dushnamub snickers.

“You said that already.” he points out.

“Well…” Tashok’s blush reaches her ears, which are tilted backwards. “I mean it… I’ve never known much about Orcs and, well I guess I’m glad you all showed me your people’s culture…”

“ _Our_ people” he puts firm hand on her shoulder before letting her depart. “You’ll always be a child of Malacath.”

Tashok pauses for a moment, thinking back to the few times she’s felt a faint but strong energy as she prayed for courage and clarity whenever she had doubts back in High Rock. It often came with a renewed faith in herself, faith that she could endure whatever challenge life threw at her, that she was tenacious and has the potential to overcome adversity if she put in the effort.

“You’re right.” she agrees with him. “Thank you. Again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note of how I see faith and praying in this context: I HC that when people in TES's world pray, they create the faintest link to the deity's essence. That is to say, when Tash prays to Malacath, he doesn't necessarily hear her, or even respond, but the prayer works as a conduit that channels a sliver of his essence - strength, endurance, tenacity , loyalty as well as resentment and being cursed or ostracized. The person praying can feel this essence which they then interpret in their own way. Most of this isn't done on a conscious level.  
> If one would pray to Mara, they would connect to her essence, which includes compassion, love, care and kindness. I'd like to think that loyalty is also a strong energy she gives off.
> 
> Tashok prays to Mara for acceptance or love, and to Malacath for strength or guidance. She doesn't really pray to anyone else, and seldom prays in general.


End file.
